


That Voice

by Irine_Rain



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irine_Rain/pseuds/Irine_Rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That melodic voice of Argent Confessor Paletress has remitted so many sins, consoled so many sorrows - and broken so many hearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Voice

I know many of us are already sick and tired of Northrend, its darkness that lasts half a year, its snow that never melts, its sinister atmosphere of impending doom. But for me it is the best place in the world, like Deepholm, Plaguelands or even the Twisting Nether would be, should my love venture there. I am an Argent Priest but my religion is not Light anymore, but just a flesh and blood human. A seditious thought. That is why I keep it to myself, and I simply cannot think about anything else. I suspect my companions consider me gloomy and unsociable. Well, maybe I am.

I sit on the stairs of the Coliseum, wrapped in my fur cloak, watching the sentinels aloofly. Today's tournament was a tiring one and I didn't see Paletress either before or after it: too many people willing to confide their soul to her…

When a dark figure appears in the flickering light of the torches, I start. But the sentinels are not in the least alarmed. I hear them say respectfully, "Good night, Confessor".

"Good night, brothers", Paletress answers with that melodic voice of hers that has remitted so many sins, consoled so many sorrows ‑ and broken so many hearts. She sees me – a black spot on the snow-powdered stairs – and approaches. "Are you sad, child?"

I realize that she cannot call me anything else in the sentinels' presence but still I have to suppress a laugh. Paletress is hardly two or three years my senior and the feelings I have for her are not at all filial. Not even brotherly.

"A little bit, Confessor".

"Will I be able to cast away that sadness?"

Shivers are sent down my spine and the gale of icy wind is not the cause.

"I'd be glad if you… heard me out".

"This is my duty", she says quietly. "And my pleasure. Come".

We walk in silence down a dark corridor to a square hall. It is lit by several lanterns hanging down on chains but the corner where a silvery folding screen shows white is shaded in semidarkness. Paletress walks around the screen and is gone from my view. I flop onto a stool.

"Well… What troubles you, Aidan?"

My throat clenches, I don't know what to begin with. I can still change my mind, run away from this charming voice, while the play is good. Why hasn't Light burnt my eyes yet for those visions I have of her every night?

Paletress is waiting patiently, hidden behind the screen. I can hear her gentle breathing, smell her faint perfume. It is time to make up my mind.

"I‑I think I'm homesick, Confessor".

"We all are", she replies quickly. "But we fight here to preserve our home the way we know and love it. In this darkness we do everything we can so that the sun still shines above our lands".

"The thing is, we do nothing", I say wearily. "We hardly ever go outside the grounds. We are forever making circles around the arena, knocking each other off the horses".

"The Tournament cultivates the will to win in its participants and improves their combat skills", Paletress reminds. "When we are ready, the Argent Crusade and the champions of all the factions will attack the Icecrown Citadel. Small sallies of poorly trained soldiers will not defeat the Scourge anyway, while a Tournament victory is as glorious as a battle one".

She is not saying anything new and I let my thoughts drift away from the Tournament and Northrend, just relishing in the sound of her voice. But suddenly her intonation changes, becoming that of reproach.

"…You are not listening to me, are you?"

Caught unawares, I mumble, "Err, forgive me, Confessor. I got distracted for a moment indeed".

"Now", she says softly. "What is really bothering you?"

I cannot see her and I think that is why I blurt out, "I love you".

That voice is silent now.


End file.
